


New Flatmates and Bad Cabbies

by LunaIrenePond



Series: Stories From a Flat on Baker Street [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: F/F, Genderbending, fem!lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-03 23:10:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 9,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaIrenePond/pseuds/LunaIrenePond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first story of Joanna and Sherlock's friendship and how Jade and Sebrina ended up together. Also, everyone's first case together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ms. Sherlock Holmes (Watson)

Six weeks after I was sent home from service in the army my pension money was running dry I realized that I needed a more stable living situation than a hotel room. This called for a job and a flat share. No sooner had these thoughts entered my mind than I was confronted by and old colleague of mine, Michele Stamford. "Joanna!" She shouted from across the bar, "How are you, last I heard you were somewhere getting shot at, what happened?" 

"I got shot," I said gesturing to the can I used to hobble around. Michele was larger than the last time I saw her and, by what a quick inspection of her left hand showed, she still wasn’t married.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," Michele said with a look of horror on her face. 

“Oh it’s quite alright,” I reassured her. “But what on earth are you still doing in London?”

“I received a teaching position at the college, never could seem to leave that place,” she informed me. Michele had always been rather fond of that old school. “What are you up to in London?”

"Well I'm in need of a roommate, but I doubt you have any of those lying about," I said joking.

“That’s strange,” she pondered.

"What is?" I asked over my drink.

"You're the second person to say that to me today," she said looking out the window.

"Who was the first?"

About an hour latter we were walking into the labs of Bart's Hospital where my potential flat mate spent allot of her time. "I don't know a bunch about her," Michele started as we made our way through the building. "She will show up in a whirl of commotion, stay here for days, and then just scamper off, and then no one will see her for weeks. I honestly can't tell you what to expect from her, only that she is rude to everyone," by that time we were just outside of the lab. 

“It’s a bit different from my day,” I said as we entered the room. 

"Ah, Michele I see you found someone," she said standing up. The first thing I noticed about her was that she was very tall and her bushy black hair was tied back in a messy ponytail. "Do you by any chance have the time? The clock in here is always slow and I forgot my watch at home."

"It's 17:27," I said glancing at my phone.

“Thank you…?” she said leaving the question open for a name.

“Oh, my name’s Joanna Watson,” I said awkwardly introducing myself.

She looked at me curiously and asked, "Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"Afghanistan," I responded, I was absolutely amazed and confused. "How did you...?"

"I have this very nice flat in mind," she said as she put her coat and scarf on. "The land lord owes me a favor. I like to play the violin at all hours of the night and sometimes don't talk for days. Would that bother you?"

"No, but, what?” I said stumbling to follow her jumps in conversation.

"Oh I thought that potential flat mates should know the worst about each other."

Yeah we should, but who said anything about flat mates?"

"Well I remarked to Michele that I could use someone to share a flat with and a few hours later she came back with and old colleague of hers. The only logical conclusion was that you were somehow, also, in need of a flat."

She was almost out of the lab when I shouted after her. "Wait, we don't know a thing about each other. I don't know what your name is, when or where we are meeting, or anything."

She swung back in and added, "The name is Sherlock Holmes, the time is ten tomorrow, and the address is 221 B Baker Street.” The door closed with a soft click behind her.

"Is she always like that?" I asked Michele.

"You were lucky, she's usually worse."


	2. Ms. Jade Moriarty (Moran)

Jade Moriarty, the first time I heard her name I was fighting in Afghanistan. Jade Moriarty was the most dangerous woman in London, my kind of girl.

I didn't leave the army in the normal way, dishonorable discharge for accidentally shooting a fellow officer. I swear my gun misfired, but it wasn't like they would believe me anyway, I had already caused too much trouble. The first thing I did after leaving the army and returning to London was to try and get back into the swing of the criminal class.

Jade Moriarty was nothing but a whisper in the underbelly of the city, everyone had heard of her but only a select few knew where she was, and they weren't talking any time soon. Jade Moriarty was a shadow. It took me three weeks to restart my business and only one week after that for her to find me.

I was walking back to my flat at about three in the morning, like you do, when I noticed someone following me. "Lovely time for a stroll," I said as I kept walking.

"It is isn't it," she said as three men stepped onto the side walk and grabbed me.

"I'm honored that you think so highly of me," I said dinghy before they knocked me out and everything went black.

When I came to I was tied to a chair in the middle of a dark room. I heard talking outside the door and it sounded like she was yelling at someone over the phone. "Look," she said calming down a bit. "The plan is foolproof; the police can't touch you because these are suicides not murders. You only have to worry about Sherlock Holmes, and anyway, I'm dealing with her. Once she stopped talking the door opened and she turned on the light. There right in front of me was Jade Moriarty the one and only. "Good you're awake, you don't look too beat up, but we can fix that," as she talked she walked over and sat down on my knees facing me.

"I bet you will," I said with my signature smirk.

Jade smiled back as she pulled a knife out of her bra, "Surely a personality like that has a name."

"Sure does," I said looking her in the eye. "Name's Sebrina Moran, I would shake your hand but I seem to be tied up at the moment."

Yes you are aren't you," she paused as she stood up. "I would really hate to hurt a face like that, but," she then laid her knife over an old scar left from my college years, blood started to run down my face and drip off my chin.

"Well," I said blinking it away, "At least this outfit won't stain."

"Glad you think that," she said matching my smile.

For the next hour she beat me to a pulp trying to get me to stop smiling, I won. "You done yet?" I asked.

"How are you still fine?" Jade asked looking at me with admiration.

"The thing is I'm not still fine, I've just gotten worse beatings from my parents, so it's not like this is any big deal," I said still trying to blink away the blood.

"You must have had shit parents," she said as she washed her hands in the sink by the door.

"Yeah, they were pretty bad," I said thinking back. "They wanted a boy anyway.'

 

"Mine did too," Jade said as she picked up a first aid kit and walked over. "My Pops wanted to pass on the family business, surgery. I said sod that, crime is much more fun."

"Well, I'm glad you have steady hands, otherwise the scars would be much worse," I said as she stitched me back up.

"I could make it worse," she smirked as she moved onto my arms.

"Please don't, I really am very vain," I said giving her a puppy dog face.

"Fine, I like you too much," she said smiling. "Would you like to stay the night to recover?"

"Well my mom always said not to go home with strange men, but nothing about strange women," I said as she undid my bonds.

"It is the women you have to look out for," Jade said laughing. "We have the more wicked sense of humor."

"There is some truth to that," I said as I followed her up the stairs out of the basement.


	3. 221B Baker Street (Watson)

The flat that Sherlock had picked out was at a prime location, it seemed to me that it would be more than I could afford. She must have noticed my worry for as soon as she saw me she said that the land lord owed her a favor. “What did you do for him?” I asked as she knocked on the door.

“Mr. Hudson‘s stepson found himself on death row in Florida a few years back.”

“So you got him off?” I asked.

“Oh, no, I ensured it,” just as she looked up the door flew open and a sweet old man swept her into a huge hug.

“My dear Sherlock,” he said hugging her, “When was the last time you ate? You’re as thin as a stick.”

“Mr. Hudson it’s good to see you too,” she said with a smile. “I’d like to introduce you to my friend Joanna Watson.”

“Nice to meet you,” Mr. Hudson said offering a hand that I shook.

“You too,” I said.

“Well, we better be getting inside,” he said as he ushered us inside and into a little entry hall. 

“Up stairs is you alls flat,” he gestured up a set of well worn wooden stairs. 

Sherlock and I cautiously walked up the set of stairs and ended up in a cozy sitting room with a rather large kitchen attached to it. “The bed rooms are right down the hallway over there, the only minor issue is that you two will have to share a bathroom,” Mr. Hudson said pointing down the hallway.

“I think we can manage,” I said as Sherlock nodded in agreement.

“Good,” he said smiling, “you two can move in as soon as the paperwork is done up.”

“Good, good,” I said looking at the news paper sitting on the side of the coffee table. Then I   
asked Sherlock, “So what do you do?” 

“I am a consulting detective,” she said looking out the window of the room into the street bellow. 

“Which is what?” I asked sitting down in one of the chairs in the sitting room.

“What I’m good at.”

“And that is…?”

“Deducing,” she said off handedly.

“I’m lost.”

“No, you have an alcoholic sister and you have a psychosomatic limp because you fought in Afghanistan, but you’re not lost,” Sherlock said as she went down stairs to help Mr. Hudson with the papers. 

I stood for a few minutes stunned and then ran down the stairs after her, “How in the world did you figure that all out?” 

“I deduced it. Deducing is gathering the information around you and figuring things about a person from that,” she said turning to me, “When we were in the lab you were surprised about my question ‘Afghanistan or Iraq?’ Well I read your military career in the way stand, it says military, you are tan, but not above the wrist, so obviously you weren’t tanning on vacation so military, active duty only place that fits the bill is Afghanistan or Iraq. Then there is your alcoholic sister, I read that in your phone which has strap marks around the charger plug in, obviously an alcoholic’s phone, but you don’t fit that, so a hand me down then. So parent, no it’s a newer one and older people don’t bother with that kind of things, so only thing left is sibling, I took a lucky guess with the sister, but apparently I got it right,” she then added with a knowing smile. “When the police are out of their depths they come to me.”


	4. A Tiger (Moran)

For a big time criminal, Jade’s house was very neat and organized and nothing gave you the slightest hint that there was a basement fully of torture equipment downstairs. It was a home of a high class Londoner, it was warm and cozy and everything had a well worn feeling to it. “Do you happen to have an extra shirt?” I asked as she led me through her house to her bed room.

“Yeah,” she said as she threw me a white tank top.

“Thanks,” I said trading it out for blood soaked shirt I had been wearing.

“No problem, I can wash your shirt and trousers if you want,” she said as she sized me up in her shirt, which actually fit rather well.

“That would be great.”

“So,” she said taking my bloody clothes. “What’s up with the tiger tattoo?”

“It’s a long story,” I said sitting down on the bed.

“We have plenty of time,” Jade said as she sat down next to me.

“Well it was an old college joke thing,” I said trying to explain it away.

“What kind of joke?”

“You just won’t let this go, will you?”

“Nope.”

“Okay well, I was part of this group of kids, well,” I said looking back. “We were more of a gang than anything else. But any way I had this sort of reputation.”

“What kind of reputation?” she asked as she kicked her shoes of.

“Well, sometimes I could be a dominatrix, sometimes an adorable lover, or someone that would love you then precede to kill you in your sleep,” I said as I helped her out of her jacket.

“Which one are you going to be tonight?”

“Is that an invitation?”

“Are you asking for one?”

“Not really,” I said leaning into her.

“Good,” she said closing the distance. It was a calm, unrushed kiss of curiosity that slowly built   
up in passion the longer it went on. By the time we fell asleep the sun was making its way above the city skyline.

“So does this mean I have a job?” I asked as we ate breakfast/lunch/dinner (like we knew what time it was) in Jade’s living room as the news played on the television.

“Well,” she said leaning over to wipe of some jam from the side of my face. “I usually don’t hire people just because they are good in bed. I usually ask for an example of their work.”

“Like what?” I asked, “Knock someone off your hit list?”

“Well, not really.”

“Then what?” I asked looking at her as she watched the news intently.

“Well… you know these strings of suicides that have been happening?” Jade asked as we watched a middle aged police man talk about it in front of a crowd of news reporters.

“Yeah, do you have something to do with that?” I asked sipping on my tea.

“Well… yes,” she said lying back on the couch. “What I need is for you to protect the killer this weekend, because she’s having a little too much fun and might get herself in a bit of trouble.”

“Like what?” 

“Just… watch out for her, will you?” Jade said trying to avoid the question. She then proceeded to lay out to me who the killer was and how they were doing it so that I could better protect her, 

“Whatever you do don’t kill Sherlock Holmes or her chick.”

“Why not?” I asked, “If you want me to keep her safe then….”

“Just don’t,” she said as she finished up her food. “If they are set on killing her let them. Sherlock Holmes would be a shame to lose.”

“Well then,” I said as I finished my food and took our plates to the kitchen, “I better get ready.”


	5. Lauriston Gardens (Watson)

Three weeks later and I was still trying to figure her out, Sherlock was a nice flat mate, when she wasn’t dissecting cats in the kitchen, she was well educated, in some areas, and was almost perfect at the violin, even when she plays and three in the morning. It seemed that at the moment she was working on a suicide case that had the whole of London in a fuss, “Sherlock aren’t those just suicides?” I finally asked after a long day of working at the clinic I had gotten a job at.

“Yes they are suicides, but each person took the poison of their own accord in the same way and no one was depressed or should have had any reason for doing it at all,” Sherlock said as she looked up from some test tube she was messing with at the moment.

“I think I see your point, but why would someone make them do it?” I asked from where I was sitting on the couch.

“Now you are finally asking the right questions. I don’t know, but I plan to find out,” Sherlock said, she seemed to be very excited about it all.

Hours later, of Sherlock passing around the flat, her phone rang and she practically threw herself at it, “Yes!” She shouted while she read it. “There’s been a third murder. Are you going to come?” 

“Come where?” I asked as she was putting on her coat.

“To the crime scene, obviously,” she said with a flourish.

“And why would I do that?” 

“Because I need someone to bounce ideas off of and you are good at that,” she said impatiently. 

“Now are you coming or not?”

“Yeah, sure,” I said as I grabbed my coat and cane. “It’s not like I have anything else to do.”

Ten minutes later we were standing in front of an abandoned town house in Lauriston Gardens right off of Brixton Road. “Ah here we are,” she said ducking underneath the police tapes.   
“Come along, Joanna,” she added as she lifted the tape for me to duck under.

“Hey, who’s your shadow, freak?” jabbed some black man standing next to a police car.

“This is Joanna Watson, Donavan. She is and ex-army doctor in civic practice now,” Sherlock said giving a brief introduction as Donavan’s chin dropped when he looked at me and suddenly I felt very uncomfortable. “Try not to leave your mouth open you might catch flies.” 

“I- um-,” he sputtered as we walked by.

Sherlock just kept on walking past the other officers and forensic people, they seemed to know her well. “Hello Lestrade, where is he?” she asked a middle aged woman who looked oddly familiar. 

“You’re so impatient,” the woman who must have been Lestrade said. “It’s very unbecoming.”

“Yes, well, you will be the first to know when I care about social formalities,” Sherlock said in a huff.

“I should know better not to bother with you anymore,” Lestrade muttered under her breath. “The body is this way,” she said as she walked up the stairs to the second floor of the run down town house.

“After you,” Sherlock said motioning me towards the stairs, so I followed Lestrade up the rickety stairs. 

“He was poisoned the same ways as the others but he managed to do something the others couldn’t before he died,” Lestrade said as we entered the room. 

The room was a sight to behold, the body was positioned laying face first against the wall and was soaked in blood, on the wall beheld the word ‘RACHE’ in big bloody letters. “Lestrade who’s blood is this?” Sherlock asked as she leaned over the body.

“Some third person’s, it may even be animal blood, but we know it’s not his because he isn’t cut in any way that would amount to that much blood.” Lestrade said as she leaned against the door frame.

“Joanna can you come over here and tell me what you think about all of this,” Sherlock said motioning to the body.

“But she just said-,” I started but Sherlock cut me off.

“I know but I would like another opinion,” she said looking over to me.

“Well,” I said walking over to the body and looking over it. “Lestrade was right, this isn’t his blood and he died from choking on his own vomit, so I would say poison. Now the blood looks rather old so I don’t think it’s from the murderer, so animal blood would be my bet.”

“Great,” Sherlock said nodding. “Now what do you think about the words on the wall?”

“Well he could have been trying to write ‘Rachel’,” said a rat like dark haired woman standing out in the hall way.

“Thank you for your input, Anderson,” Sherlock said as she reached past Lestrade to close the door in her face.

“Well that was nice,” I said under my breath. 

“Oh don’t mind her, she’s an idiot,” Sherlock said with a wave of her hand.

“Well if it’s not ‘Rachel’ then what is it?” Lestrade asked.

“’Rache’ is German for ‘revenge’ and if these are well thought out murders by a person out for revenge I think we have something to go off of,” Sherlock said going threw her phone, then her face lit up and she asked, “What all did you find on the body?”

“Well we have a business card, which isn’t his before you ask, a hotel bill, a wallet with a few credit cards in it, and a passport from Germany” Lestrade said holding up a clear plastic bag that had all the things in it. Sherlock took the bag, spread it out and took a picture of the hotel bill and then darted off. 

“Hey!” I shouted after her.

“What?” she yelled up the stairs to me.

“Where are you going?” 

“He had no phone,” she yelled back. “Most people would not switch countries without a phone. Find the phone and you are one step closer to finding the killer,” with that Sherlock Holmes was gone and I was left wondering how I was going to get back to our flat.


	6. Old Friends (Moran)

Jade Moriaty’s killer chick, was about the easiest person to find and follow. She never really did anything but work and sleep and when she wasn’t doing either of those she was killing someone and it’s not like I needed to be there for that. So after what Jade had said about Sherlock Holmes   
I felt like giving a visit to her older sister.

I found Myra holed up in her office in some undistinguishable building in the center of London. With my usual attitude I walked past the secretaries, falling asleep because of overtime, and sat myself down in front of Myra’s wooden desk in her posh office. “Hello Ms. Holmes,” I said with a smirk as I popped my feet up onto her desk. Myra was a tall, ginger, middle aged woman that always dressed like she was meeting a dignitary, which was always possible. 

“Hello Sebrina,” Myra said as she shuffled some official looking papers. “Unless you want the Yard to know you are back in town I would get out of my hair.”

“Hey, I just wanted to talk,” I said putting my hands up in defense.

“Yeah about my sister,” she said typing on her computer.

“What about her?” I asked as I sat up and started to look threw the papers on her desk.

“Sebrina leave,” Myra said grabbing the envelope out of my hand that I had picked up from her desk.

“But Myra, I just want to talk.”

“About what, hm, do you want to talk about the fact that you are now a killer for hire, or how about the fact that you are sleeping with the most dangerous woman in London?” Myra quipped in a huff.

“My, I was curious about what the big deal was with your sister because she’s starting to make a name for herself and in the past you never talked about your family,” I said looking her trying to find the girl I had gone to college with.

“Sebrina, what makes you think that I would want to ever talk about my family?” 

“I don’t know,” I said as she finally met my gaze. “I guess I wanted to know if you were still the girl I used to know.”

“Well, am I?”

“No,” I said as I stood up. “I hope this will be the last you see of me.”

“I’ll just casually forget to mention you are back,” she said as she looked back to her computer. “Please close the door on the way out.”

As I walked out of her office I remembered the last time I had left her. We were in college both studying law when I had told her that I wanted to go into the military. She didn’t talk to me for days. Myra said it was too dangerous and I would get killed but honestly I didn’t care at that point and I think that was what made her dislike of me finally stick. She was always a rational girl and dating me was the craziest thing she had ever done, it was no small wonder when she broke it off. We went our separate ways, she went on to government and I learned medicine on a full ride from the army, it all worked out.

Once I was on the street I notice a familiar figure standing on the street. “Hello Jade, for what reason do I have the pleasure?” I asked as I stuck my hands in the pockets of my coat.  
“Your charge is getting sloppy,” she said walking up next to me.

“I thought as much,” I sighed into the cold night air.

“What were you doing here?” 

“I was checking up on an old tie,” I said as we started to walk down the street. “Don’t worry it’s very broken by now.”

“So you knew Myra?” Jade inquired.

“Yeah we dated once but it’s over and done,” I said looking over to her. Her small thin frame was encased in a big fluffy jacket. “Do you know her?”

“Well… kind of. We both know of each other but I don’t think we need to get entangled.” 

“Good, because you two crossing paths wouldn’t end well,” I said. I stopped walking, wrapped me arms around her small frame, and kissed her lightly on the forehead, “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You never will,” she reassured me with a slow loving kiss.


	7. Too Much History (Watson)

“You don’t happen to know where I could get a cab, do you?” I asked Donavan on my way back to the road.

“Yeah, right up there,” he said pointing to an intersection a couple blocks away.

“Thanks,” I said and I started off down the road. 

“Hey,” he called after me. “You shouldn’t hang around her, she’s dangerous.”

I stopped and turned around, “And how is it that you know this?”

“People like her always are, they don’t pay her, she gets a kick out of it, and she’s crazy if you ask me. Sooner or later were going to be standing around a body and Sherlock Holmes is going to be the one to put it there.” I turned to continue walking away and he shouted again, “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t hang around someone like her.”

“A pretty girl like me,” I said not turning around, “Should be free to make her own choices whether they are good or bad.”

I was almost to the street he had pointed out when one of the public phones started to ring, I didn’t think much about it until a second, and then a third one rang, with no one in the boxes. Finally the third time it had happened in walked in and picked up the phone. “Hello,” I said into the receiver.

“Hello Joanna,” said a woman’s soothing voice on the other end. “I think you should look at the top of the restaurant across the street from you,” I looked and there one of the cameras moved back and forth. “Now look at the top of the building on the corner,” again a camera moved back and forth. “And last but not least the one on the building next to you,” and once more the same thing happened. “Now there is a car pulling up to you know and I think you understand your position,” after she said that the line went dead and sure enough there was a black unmarked car pulling up in front of me. What choice did I have but to get in?

Inside the car was a nerdy looking man typing away on his blackberry, like the world depended on it. After a few minutes of driving, I finally asked, “Where are we going?”

“Well that is the question isn’t it,” he said. He didn’t even bother to look up.

“You’re not going to tell me are you?”

“Nope,” he was still typing away.

“Well, my name’s Joanna,” I said trying to start a conversation.

“Percy,” he said finally looking up.

“That’s not your real name is it?”

“Nope,” he said with a smirk on his face.

“Well then,” I said and spent the rest of the car trip staring out the window. After about ten more minutes the car started to slow down, right outside an abandon factory, what a great place to die.

“Come on,” Percy said as he got out of the car and opened the other door for me.

“Thank you.”

“After me,” he said leading me into the factory and into a long hallway where, at the very end, a tall ginger middle aged woman stood. He then turned and left the way he came.  
“Hello Joanna,” she said and I immediately recognized the voice from the public telephone.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“A friend of Sherlock Holmes,” she said. She then gestured to the chair in front of her with her umbrella, “Have a seat.”

“No thanks,” I said squaring my shoulders. “Sherlock Holmes doesn’t seem to be the sort of person to have friends.”

“No she’s not,” the woman said. I could have sworn she looked wistful in a way. 

“Then who are you?”

“I’m her sister and I want to protect my little sister.”

“So what, you kidnap her flat mate?”

“Eh, I wanted to talk to you and I didn’t want Sherly to know.”

“So you kidnap me? Why didn’t you just call me?” I asked dumb founded. 

“She would have known,” the red headed lady simply put.

“So what, and why did you want to talk to me?”

“I want you to keep tabs on her for me.”

“Why?”

“I worry about her, constantly. I will pay you for your trouble,” she added as a sort of after thought. 

“No,” I said staring her down. “You go talk to her yourself.”

“There is too much history between us.”

“Tough,” I said and I walk out of the building back to the car.

“Where were you?” Sherlock asked from the sofa once I had gotten back to the flat.

“Getting kidnapped by your sister,” I said as I went to get a cup of tea.

“Huh, can I use your phone to send a text?” 

“Yeah,” I said as I poured two cups of tea for us. “Why can’t you use your phone?”

“There is always the chance that the number would be recognized,” she said as she dug through my purse to try and find my phone. “It’s on my website.”

Once the tea was made I came back and handed her tea and my phone, which was in my pocket the whole time, “Thanks.” Sherlock said meekly, “What did she want anyway?”

“The fact that she cares so much about you but she won’t check up on you because there is too much history between you two.”

“The truth is that she is lazy and it’s easier for her to kidnap people than to talk to them like a normal person,” Sherlock said as she flopped on the sofa. “She also has an amazing flair for dramatics.”

“I noticed. So did you find the man’s phone?”

“No, but I did find the hotel he stayed at and I got the phone number he left with them.”

“So who did you text?” I asked as I started to get worried.

“Think Jo,” she said with a small smirk on her face.

“Please tell me you didn’t just text a serial killer on my phone,” I said as I stared holes into her head.

“Well technically I texted a dead man’s phone that a killer just happened to have the phone,” just as the words came out of Sherlock’s mouth the phone started to ring neither of us quite sure as to what to do.


	8. Words Between Killers (Moran)

“Sebrina, dear, your charge is getting gutsy,” Jade told me as she checked her phone.

“No pun intended I hope?” I said as I held open the door to her nice warm flat so we could both get out of the crisp night air.

“No, none indeed,” she said cracking a smile. “No, she seems to have ended up with her last victim’s phone and Sherlock ended up with the number.”

“What is that pore idiot going to do?” I wondered to myself as I poured some scotch for the two of us.

“I don’t know but you need to keep tabs on her as quickly as possible,” Jade said taking a swig out of her glass. “But Sebby, please remember, I want Sherlock and her pet to stay alive.”

“Duly noted,” I said as I swept back into the crisp night air. For half an hour I tracked the killer’s cab on my phone, Jade had hacked into the cab company’s tracker weeks ago. After a while I got bored so I took to the side walk and set out to try and follow the cab on foot. Within twenty minutes it was in my sight, and so was Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock and her pet were running after the cab in a mad dash. I immediately set out to follow them from a distance. After a while they cut off from following the cab straight behind and went their own way to, what seemed to, cut the cab off. Once I found them again I stayed back near the buildings. They had opened up the door to the back seat and were talking to the passenger. I couldn’t help but laugh as I slipped back into the ebb and flow of the crowd. 

After they had left the cab I tried to figure out who I should follow. The murderer seemed the more interesting choice. I texted Jade my plan she respond with a have fun and to not dirty her name, the murderer had never met her. Within a couple tries I had intercepted her. “Hello,” I said tapping on the hood.

“Hello miss, where can I take you?” she asked warmly.

“Some where we can talk one to one,” I said pulling out my small gun and waving it in her face. I felt somewhat bad, considering that she was a sixty something old lady, but all that was reconciled when I thought of the fact that she was a serial killer.

“Yes ma’am,” she said pulling out into the flow of traffic. “I know just the place.”

“Good,” I said fully relaxing in the seat.

“Who is it that I have the pleasure of meeting?” she asked as she pulled into an abandoned parking lot.

“Sebrina Moran, oh and Jade Moriarty sends her regards,” I said flipping the knife I had pulled out of my pocket around.

“Nice to know you,” she said. “Is this place any good?”

“It’ll do fine,” I said looking around. I couldn’t find any cameras, “All I wanted to do was to talk.”

“About what?” she asked turning around in her seat

“About you killing people,” I said.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, god no, I just would like to know. Hell, I’ve killed so many people I lost track about five years ago.”

“Well,” she started. “When I was younger, so much younger, I had very few friends. But there was this guy I was madly in love with, and he loved me back. Well, the friends that I did have didn’t think that I was good enough for the man that I loved, so they went about to break us up. Well it worked, a little too well. In the process of separating us they managed to completely and utterly destroy my life. I lost my job, my love, and my reputation all because they didn’t think I was good enough to love the man I love. Oh, and it turns out that my best friend in the whole wide world married that man and has three kids. While I married an ass hole and has one kid that I can never see anymore.”

“And that is what you call a motive,” I muttered.

“Yes, well, everyone has one,” she said sighing. “In any case, it’s the perfect time, even if they do catch me my aneurism my kill me before I go to trial.”

“So everyone you killed was someone you knew?” I asked.

“Yes, there is no way I could kill someone I didn’t know,” she said restarting the cab. “I could never live with the guilt. Could you?”

“You would be surprised,” I said thinking back to all the people I had taken out under orders I never questioned.

“Yeah well I like to think that they know who is killing them and why they are doing it,” she said pulling out of the parking lot. “I wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt for very long in any case.”

“You have a point.”

“Is there anywhere I can drop you off?” she asked.

“Yeah, that bank on Baker Street,” I said. It wasn’t too far away from Jade’s house. 

“Gotcha’,” she said as she weaved her way in and out of traffic.

Within forty five minutes I was entering Jade’s house with a smirk on my face, “What?” she inquired as I sat down next to her on the sofa in front of the television.

“Oh you pick the best killers,” I said wrapping my one arm around her as I took out the cabbie ID I had nicked from the cab. “Ms. Jamie Hope has the biggest sob story from any serial killer I have heard of.”

“Most killers have one,” Jade said leaning into my side.

“But hers tops them all. It’s only her novelty that keeps her from getting caught.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like she’ll last much longer,” Jade said partially zoning out.

“Do you mean Sherlock or the aneurism?”

“Which ever gets her to first, the race is on.”


	9. Lapses of Silence (Watson)

As soon as Sherlock and I entered the flat after our run across the city chasing a cab she started yelling around the flat, “Mr. Hudson!”

“Yes, my dear what is it you want?” he asked walking up to our flat.

“Was anyone up here while we were gone?” she asked as she dug through papers and drawers looking for something.

“Yes, there was a girl named Janet, she looked like one of those pore homeless kids you carry on with. But anyway she gave me this note to give to you, she said it was important,” Mr. Hudson said as he pulled out a crumpled up piece of paper from his pocket.

“Thank you, Mr. Hudson,” Sherlock said as she read the piece of paper. “Joanna just stay here and make yourself comfortable, I’ll be back in a bit.”

Before I could say anything she was gone, “That girl,” tutted Mr. Hudson. “Does she ever stop moving?”

I just chuckled and laid down on the sofa, within seconds of my head hitting the arm rest I was asleep. The next thing I knew I was jerked awake by the slamming of the front door. The clock on the mantelpiece said four o’clock. “What’s got you so hyper?” I asked as Sherlock practically bounced into the room.

“Murder Joanna, revengeful murder,” she said as she smiled somewhat evilly. “I have a network of homeless in this city and they, every now and then, help me with cases. Well when news of the first murder came to my attention I sent them about digging up the back ground of the young woman. Well,” she said walking over to the wall where she was trying to map out the murders. “They dug up quite the mess on all three of the victims. They all knew each other on some level.”

“But the police said that they weren’t connected,” I said in astonishment.

“The police weren’t looking in the right places,” Sherlock said looking at the web on the wall.

“Is that what it’s like in your head?” I asked.

“No,” she sighed. “It all fits together better and neater, but there we go,” she smiled.

“What?” I inquired.

“They essentially all lived in the same area for a couple of years.”

“So they all could share some history,” I offered as Sherlock jumped over the coffee table to try and get to her computer.

“Well obviously they share some history or they wouldn’t all be dead,” she said typing furiously at her computer. “The question is who the shared it with.”

“So find that person and you find the killer.”

“Yes,” Sherlock said as she picked up her phone. “That or someone who knows the killer,” after that Sherlock slipped into total silence. I couldn’t get a word out of her as she texted and called different people, eventually I fell asleep. When I awoke Sherlock was talking quickly to herself while pacing the flat.

“Sherlock,” I said, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “What are you doing?”

“I got into contact with the families of the suicide victims and it turns out that these people all moved to the UK as a group of five friends,” Sherlock said as she continued to pace. “Now that was twenty years ago.”

“So what happened since then?” I wondered finishing her train of thought. 

“Exactly what I was thinking, there must have been a falling out, but how? Now they’re were five of them, three of them have been killed, so of the remaining two people one of them is the killer and the other might be the next victim. But which is which,” and once again Sherlock lapsed into complete silence, aside from the occasional mumble, and went back to her computer and cell phone. It was half past twelve when I heard anything from her again, “Joanna, if you had a best friend that stole the love of your life what would you do?”

“Make her life a living hell,” I said without giving it much thought. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, one of these girls, Jamie Hope, had a long term boyfriend that one other girls, Jessica Strangerson, stole from her and I have a ninety-nine percent idea of what happened but I just wanted to compare my theory to one of an average mind.”

“And,” I inquired.

“And I was right,” she said with a glint in her eye. “We have find Jessica before Jamie does,” and once again Sherlock lapsed into silence. I took that as an opportunity to try and make her eat something… I failed.

A couple hours latter Lestrade came flying into the flat, “Sherlock there’s been a kidnapping.” 

“Why are you coming to me for this?” Sherlock asked slightly confused.

“We are almost one hundred percent sure it is related to the murders,” Lestrade said with a pleading look in her face.

“What happened?”

“This woman, who was checked into the hotel under the name Jessica Strangerson, she went missing today from her room.”

“Who called it in?”

“It was an anonymous tip.”

“Well, shit,” Sherlock said as she went to put on her coat.

“What is it?” asked Lestrade.

“That anonymous tip,” I said grabbing my coat, “Was probably from a serial killer that wants some fun.”

“Lestrade,” said Sherlock as she flew down the stairs to the street below. “I need you to find Jamie Hope’s cab, when you find her cab you will find Mrs. Jessica Strangerson.” Sherlock then hailed a cab and turned to me, “Joanna will you please go with Lestrade and get her caught up on everything?”

“Yeah, but Sherlock,” I said grabbing her arm. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to go to the hotel, and then I’m going to reason with a murderer. Text me when you know where Ms. Hope is,” Sherlock then closed the cab door in my face and it rode away.

“So, Joanna,” Lestrade said as we walked over to her car. “What is it that she figured out?”


	10. It Was Just a Show (Moran)

Jade and I woke up, the morning after my talk with Jamie, to my phone going off. “Shit,” I said as I tried to sit up in bed.

“What is it?” Jade said as she tried to rub the sleep from her eyes.

“Oh I planted a mole in Sherlock’s little homeless network and it turns out,” I said glancing at my phone, “That Sherlock is onto your little killer.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to talk to her or maybe just follow her,” I said as I changed into my favorite pair of jeans. “I really haven’t thought it out that far.”

“Well don’t kill Sherlock,” Jade said with a smirk. 

“Like I could forget,” I said sitting back down on the bed.

“Hey,” she said pulling me in. “I haven’t had a chance to test your memory yet.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” I said closing the space between us and kissed her on the forehead before slipping out of bed.

“You’re a little shit,” Jade complained as she glared at me.

“And that’s why you love me,” I said as I pulled on my leather jacket.

“Hey, Sebby,” Jade said right before I had left the room.

“Yeah,” I said stepping back in.

“Please don’t get hurt.”

“I’ll try,” I promised. Half an hour latter I was walking up the stairs to Jamie Strangerson’s hotel room and begun to pick the lock.

“I wouldn’t bother with that,” called a woman’s voice from inside. “It’s unlocked.”

“Cool,” I said as I opened the door and took a step inside, where I proceeded to have a gun pressed to my head. “I don’t know if I should be flattered or pissed,” I said as I disarmed her and shoved her against the wall. 

“I was about to say the same thing. Why is Moriarty sending someone else to do her work?” Sherlock asked, practically spitting the words out.

“Because Moriarty doesn’t like to get her hands dirty, and anyway, “I said backing up with Sherlock’s gun. “I didn’t come here to kill you; in actuality I have direct orders not to kill you or your little pet.”

“Well then why are you here?” Sherlock asked glaring at me.

“I felt like watching you try and solve this one.”

“Well then go stand in a corner or something,” Sherlock said as she went over to one of the beds and started to inspect it, a few minutes later her head popped up, “Why did you call Joanna my pet?”

“Oh that’s what you call her.”

“Whatever,” she then walked over to the bathroom and started mumbling. 

“You’re not going to find anything in there,” I called after her.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“I could.”

“But could you really?”

“Yes,” she said walking over to the desk. 

I left it at that, for about five minutes, “Are you sure you’re looking in the right place?”

“Yes.”

“Are you really sure?”

“Is there something you want to share with the whole class?” 

“No,” I said and laid down on the bed.

“Well then could you please shut up?!” she yelled at me.

“Why should I,” I challenged.

“Because judging by the state of your clothes you recently fell into cohorts with someone with a lot of money, I can tell from the fact that in the past two months your clothes have been taken care of better than they have in their entire existence. Also I can deduce that that person is both your lover and your employer and you are on a little trip to impress said person, which honestly in best guess is Moriarty. And from that look on your face I would say yes. Now unless you want your ex-girlfriend, Myra to know what you are up to I would shut up and go stand in the corner.”   
I got up and went to go sit in the corner; Sherlock had stunned me into silence for once in my life. A few minutes later she got a text and she went running out of the room. “That’s okay leave without me,” I yelled down the hall after her.

“I’m sure you know where I’m going,” she yelled back. 

“You bet I do,” I mumbled as I strolled to the elevator and hit the button for the bottom floor. It was now time to kick back and enjoy the show.

“Hey, Jamie,” Sherlock said as she sauntered into the abandoned warehouse that Ms. Hope had been hiding in. I myself was sitting on an overhang where I could see them but they couldn’t see me.

“You must be Sherlock,” she replied. For a sixty year old serial killer, she seemed oddly relaxed. 

“So you’ve heard of me?” Sherlock inquired. It just then dawned on me that I still had her gun… oh well….

“Warned of you is more like it.”

“By whom might I ask?”

“By Moriarty, she said that you were the only thing I had to be worried about.”

“Ah that name again,” Sherlock said pacing back and forth in front of Ms. Hope. “Well let’s get down to business; you have a person that I would like alive and the people who give me paychecks want and explanation. Now, I know most of it, there is just one think I’m not sure about. How did you kill them?”

“I talked to them. You see pore Jessica over there?” she said gesturing to a body on the warehouse floor. “She did that all by herself, I gave her a choice.”

“What kind of choice?” Sherlock asked giving her a questioning glace.

“Ah, I think you’re going to have to use your powers of deduction on that one,” Ms. Hope winked at Sherlock, pulled out a gun, and shot herself straight in the head. It had all been a test to see how crazy could she make Sherlock before she knocked her own lights out. I left as the police arrived. All it was was a show, and the show was over.


	11. A Solved Case (Watson)

We were back in Baker Street after all that had happened and Lestrade was trying to get information out of Sherlock. “Sherlock what the hell happened in there?” Lestrade inquired once again.

“I went to the hotel which Mrs. Strangerson had disappeared from and found very little, then I got Joanna’s text, and then I went to the warehouse as quickly as I could. Once I was at the warehouse I was met by Ms. Hope and Mrs. Strangerson’s body and my fears were confirmed. The more I talked to Ms. Hope the more I learned,” Sherlock said as she sat in her overstuffed leather armchair.

“Like what?” Lestrade said as she leaned against the doorframe which led to the stairs.

“Like the fact that Ms. Hope made the victims kill themselves, they would take a chance of two pills, one, she told them, was poisoned the other wasn’t. In actuality it was the glass of water she gave them that was poisoned not the pill, so she was completely safe. The reason that Ms. Hope was killing now was because she had been told that she had an aneurism, I think you will find that that is true in your autopsy. Also all the people that she had killed were, at one point, close friends of hers. Mrs. Strangerson was the person that Ms. Hope loathed the most so she made her sit there and watch all the other die before she came for her,” Sherlock paused to sip her tea. “It was quite brilliant actually.”

“Sherlock,” I said warningly.

“What?” she said indifferently.

“A bit not good,” I said getting up and going to the kitchen.

“Hey it was clever, it had the police force going in circles for ages,” she said glaring at me.

“I’m going to pretend that I didn’t hear that,” said Lestrade as she stood up. “I guess I’ll be going then.”

“Bye Lestrade,” I said. Sherlock had already left her seat to get out her violin. When I realized what she was going to do I groaned.

“What?” she asked accusatorily.

“Oh, when you get your violin out you play for hours on end without any food or sleep.”

“Is that a problem?” Sherlock said glaring at me.

“Yes,” I said matching her glair. “You need to eat.”

“Why?” 

“Because if you don’t you will pass out,” I snapped.

“What would you suppose I eat?”

“Anything would be good right now,” I said a little bit taken aback that she was giving in a little bit.

“What about Chinese take away?” 

“Okay but you have to order.”

“Okay I will,” she then wiped out her phone and ordered.

“Are you happy yet?”

“I will be when I see you eating.”

“Joanna, why do you care so much?”

“Because I’m a doctor and caring is part of my job.”

Sherlock didn’t say anything else until the food had came and she was half-way through her food, “Did Myra set you up to this?”

“No Sherlock she didn’t.”

“But- “

“Sherlock,” I said cutting her off. “Had it ever occurred to you that I just really do care?”

“No,” she said thoughtfully. “No one has really cared about me before.”

“What about your family?” I asked starting to get curious.

“They don’t count, I mean really if it wasn’t their civic duty and if I didn’t have so much black mail material on them they would probably disown me.”

“You have an asshat of a family,” I said getting up to make myself another cup of tea.

“And you are addicted to tea,” Sherlock said nodding to the cup in my hand.

“It’s true,” I acknowledged.

“I swear you drink almost as much tea as Myra.”

“Hold up a second,” I said trying to act serious. “It’s not possible to drink more tea than I do.”

“If you added up all the tea that Myra has drank it would be the equivalent of the volume of the Indian Ocean,” Sherlock smirked as she ate some more of her food.

“Isn’t it possible to drown yourself by drinking too much of something?”

“Yes, but tea is a diuretic so you would just pee it all out.”

We went on like this for an hour or two, just eating take away and making jokes at other people’s expenses. I learned things about the Holmes family, most of which I can’t repeat, but some I can. Like the small fact that if you ever want to start another world war leave Myra with her phone when she is on pain killers. I also learned some other things such as, the guy in the morgue, Morgan Hooper, totally has a crush on Sherlock and, as far as I can tell, Sherlock does too. As Sherlock and I talked the sleepier the two of us became.

We woke the next day to Mr. Hudson putting dishes away in the cabinets. We had fallen asleep at the table. “What time is it?” mumbled Sherlock as she tried to rub the sleep from her eyes.

“Two in the afternoon, miss,” Mr. Hudson said as he looked at the two of us at the table. We were quite the sight, discarded take away containers and lab equipment were covered the table. My and Sherlock’s hair was both tangled and messy and we both had imprints on our faces from the journals we had fallen asleep on top of.

Sherlock groaned, stood up, and stumbled off to her room, “I’ll see you all in about two days.”

“Wow,” I said rubbing my eyes.

“What?” Mr. Hudson inquired as her started to clean up the table.

“Oh, just the wonders that a solved case will do for her,” I said shaking my head.

“I have learned over the years to always expect Ms. Sherlock to do something unexpected when you least expect it.”


End file.
